This Low
by melodrome
Summary: Postseries, postSerenity. Mal returns to an old battleground for information on Book and picks up more than he bargains for. Zoe becomes a liability while River finds something neither she nor Jayne ever thought she would. [On hiatus.]
1. Chapter 1

_Bombs fell all around them. Time after time it was the same old scene; the remaining browncoats hiding in some tiny cave, bombs falling all around them._

_This time it was Joseph among the wounded. He wouldn't make it, but for now he was aware. Hurting, but aware. For some reason there was a lapse in the explosions. Then tiny clangs punctuated the night._

"_What… what is that…?"_

"_I don't know, Joseph."_

"_Zoe?"_

"_Yeah, Joseph, it's me."_

"_The Serge here?"_

"_Sure am, Joe."_

"_I need you to… to tell my… family I…"_

"_I ain't tellin' your family anything, Joe. You're gonna get to tell 'em yourself."_

"_I ain't makin' it through this, Serge…"_

"_Joseph, how many times have you heard me make the speech?"_

"_A few."_

"_Do I really need to make it again? You ain't dyin' today, nor any other day in this war. Someday you'll die of old age with your wife and children surroundin' you on a planet much nicer than this one, but until then you quit thinkin' about death, because it ain't gonna happen."_

_Silence fell again, aside from the little clangs. Zoe, Mal and six other officers spoke whispered amongst each other. Soon the clangs were punctuated with little hisses._

_Joseph heard Zoe say quite clearly, "oh God."_

Mal responded by taking out his crucifix from under his shirt and whispered to it. "What IS that?" Joseph whispered. Zoe turned slowly to regard the fallen soldier.

"_That would be gas escaping from metal capsules."_

"_Oh god. They've really sunk this low."_

"_They've always been this low. Why do you think we're fighting this war?" Mal thought for a few seconds within the silence before making a command decision. "Zoe, you take Joseph. I'll take Lawrence; Killoran, you take Walt. We're going to make a run for it and hope the other platoon does likewise." Mal shook his head as he threw an unconscious form across his shoulder. "There ain't no one comin' back from this."_

---

"River. How far out from Yanash are we?"

"Less than a day."

"Thanks for that, but I'm looking for time in hours, or minutes if you got it."

"270."

Mal paused. "That's six hours, right?"

"Four and a half."

"Gotcha." Mal started down the stairs, stopped and wheeled around. "You can't shave any time off that figure, now can you?"

River tilted her head back and Mal just noticed the glare she was giving him that stated quite plainly, "If I could shave any time off I'd have done it already, and by the way I've probably saved you five hours just by sitting here."

"Right then." This time he made it down the stairs and down into the cargo hold. He was greeted by Zoe upon his entrance into the vast open space.

"Inara just got off the Cortex with the Mad Hatter. Said he had something to talk to you about."

"I'm on my way up there now. We're touching down in Yanash in four hours, so you got any errands you'd like to run, make plans to run 'em."

"Yanash? Why we settin' down on that ruttin' planet? Ain't nothin' there but rock and wiggy folk," Jayne commented from behind a crate somewhere, no doubt "keeping a watchful eye" on the load of heavy arsenal they were transporting.

"Them wiggy folk tend to have plenty of use for illegal repeaters, Jayne. Easy profits. Plus I've got a bone to pick with the Mad Hatter."

"I thought he was the one who wanted to talk to you," came Jayne's muffled voice.

"The name 'Mad Hatter' mean anything to you? The man doesn't know what's what, unless he's talking about the past. Tell Kaylee what we're up to; the few sane folk on Yanash can usually use transport, and they almost never have anything to do with the Alliance. We could use some passengers 'bout now," he called as he made his way toward Shuttle One. He started opening the hatch, smiled dimly, and settled instead for soft knocking.

"Come in," came the soft voice from within. He tried to shake off the tickle in his spine as he stepped inside.

"I heard the Mad Hatter contacted you," Mal stated. He hid the nervousness in his voice well.

"Actually, I contacted him." She sat in front of the blank cortex screen and looked out the window. For the first time since she'd come back on the ship months ago, she hadn't turned to greet him warmly. She kept her back turned.

Mal's eyes grew suspicious, and he waited for a spell before answering. "This whole scene seems mighty peculiar, Inara. I wonder if you might look me in the eye and explain to me what gives you the right to talk to my clients when I don't come within spittin' distance of yours."

She sighed and turned her chair around. Her face was torn between indignence and worry. "Let it go, Mal."

Mal clenched his teeth. "I haven't a clue as to what you're talking about."

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. Ever since we went to Miranda, you've done little else but stress and obsess about what has been. Concentrate on what's now, Mal. The past doesn't matter half as much as the present does."

A muscle in his jaw twitched. "We ain't gonna have this conversation." He turned on his heel and strode from the room. Inara sighed heavily and chased after him.

"One way or another, Mal, we are going to have this conversation. We can have it in private or we can have it in front of everyone, it's up to you. But the fact is that you need some sober second-thought on the matter, and as of late I haven't seen a lot of sobriety from you." Her words echoed throughout the cargo hold, and she regretted them as soon as she said them. Jayne stood from behind the crates and looked up at the pair; Zoe opted to look down at her feet and busy herself moving things about for unloading.

Inara stood, trying to force the guilt off her face as Malcolm turned slowly to meet her gaze angrily. "There ain't nothin' keeping you here, Inara. You don't like the way I do things, you're more than welcome to find somewhere else to be."

"You know that's not what I—"

"We're stopping off in Yanash in a few hours. You think you can do better there, you're welcome to disembark. I could use the room anyhow."

"Learning about _what_ he was won't help you learn _who_ he was!" Inara cried after him as he strode angrily around the corner. He gave no indication that he heard her. She sighed in exasperation and stormed back into her shuttle.


	2. Chapter 2

He sat neatly, back straight, hands clasped in front of his. He'd been sitting this way for the past forty minutes, and he didn't mind a bit. The only part of the whole situation that really bothered him was that his glasses were slightly askew. He could conceivably budge to adjust them, but he would be breaking the laws of sitting still! And that just wouldn't do.

"Captain Reynolds," he squeaked as Mal entered, "I wonder if it would trouble you at all to adjust my glasses for me. They are bothering me just so in all their crookedness."

Mal stepped forward and pushed the specs up onto the bridge of his nose. "Why, thank you. I can see much better now."

"There any particular reason you couldn't have done that yourself?"

"I'm just too comfortable right now, Captain. I'm comfortable to the point of panic. I fear that if I move I might begin to move too much. And that just wouldn't do."

"No, I suppose it wouldn't. You got information for me?"

"Now now, Captain. I decided that our little arrangement was far too informal. All you do anymore is ask me for information! I rather wish you'd sit down with me so I might discuss it with you."

"If it's all the same, Mr. Hatter, I'm in a hurry to get someplace, so if I could just—"

"But it isn't all the same, dear Captain! It just simply isn't! It just. Simply. Isn't. Now, either you will sit down with me and allow me to tell you the information rather than present it to you, or you will get no information at all. Those are my conditions! No other."

Mal smiled darkly and exhaled through his nose in exasperated amusement. Then, rather instantly, he stepped forward, lifted the tiny man out of his chair, and slammed him against the wall, ignoring his squeals. "Look here, Mister. I don't got any particular beef with you, but I'm willing to change that if you don't cooperate with me now. I don't give a damn what your conditions are, because mine are the ones that matter. Now either you give me the information so's I can take it with me in documented form, or I leave here empty-handed and you don't leave here or anywhere else again on account of your being extremely dead. We clear?"

"Now look! Now just look!" squealed the Mad Hatter. "You've made me move and I am moving far too much! I am way up here and this just won't do! It just won't—" His words were abruptly cut off by a heavy blow to the face. He fell limp instantaneously. Mal furrowed his brow in mild disappointment and let the tiny man slide to the floor. He then turned around to regard the desk at which he had been sitting behind.

There were six drawers, three on either side. The top four looked far to small to hold anything of importance, and upon being busted open proved to be absolutely full to the brim of ballpoint pens. Apparently the Mad Hatter preferred the ancient ways of documenting things.

Mal busted open the bottom two drawers and found them to open up portions of the floor as well. The drawers seemed bottomless; they were all full of files of everyone the Mad Hatter knew anything about. But the important thing was that they seemed to be alphabetized, and Book was certainly near the beginning of the alphabet. After ten minutes of searching, Mal finally found what he was looking for. He opened the file just to make sure that it was the very same Book and found twenty pages of hand-written scrawl on the Shepherd.

He left what he owed the Hatter inside the small man's multi-pocketed vest and strode from the establishment.

---

Mal arrived back at the ship just after Jayne, who had been looking both crestfallen at the new lack of excellent arsenal and elated at the acquirement of lots and lots of money. Kaylee sat in her lawn chair with her paper umbrella, as usual, making the ship look even more beautiful than it was. Mal looked instinctively up at the shuttle and caught a glimpse of Inara drawing the curtains. He knew she hated this planet, and with reason. Most of them did, him and Zoe especially.

"Zoe back yet?"

"And a lovely afternoon to you too, Captain," Kaylee said without a hitch in her infinitely cheery demeanor.

Mal smiled down at her despite himself. "Had any takers today, Kaywinnit Lee?"

"None as of yet. Most passerby have been crazy folk. Simon even tried to save me from one."

"How valiant of him," Mal muttered sarcastically, incessantly appalled at how starstruck she was by someone so terribly proper. "Where's he got off to now?"

"I don't know. He went off by his lonesome nearly an hour ago." She frowned. "What took you so long, anyhow?"

"Ran into some unfortunate complications."

Kaylee looked up and frowned. "Are you hurt?"

"I was more the one distributing the hurtin'. We're gettin off this rock in about an hour. He ain't shown up by then, we ain't waitin'." Mal began to walk into the ship when gunshots from behind him made him turn on the spot.

Simon came running surprisingly fast from behind a series of rocks and threw himself over Kaylee, catching her head before it hit the hard bridge of the ship. Mal unholstered his gun and backed into a corner to avoid the rain of poorly aimed gunfire headed in his direction. Three bandit-like people were shooting at them from behind a couple of boulders. Mal began to fire back before he noticed that either these folk firing were extremely drunk, or they weren't firing at him. Mal spotted a man sporting a long brown coat hiding behind a boulder between Mal and the bandits. The browncoat certainly seemed to be enjoying himself; his long blonde hair was loose around his face and he looked run down at best, but he had a considerable grin on his face. Once the shower of bullets slowed a bit, the browncoat stood and fired back at them with extremely familiar arsenal. He managed to hit two of the bandits before hiding behind the boulder again and giving off a deep laugh. The third kept firing at the browncoat before he gave off a cry and hit the ground hard. Mal ventured forward and kept his gun trained in the direction of the bandits.

"Zoe, that your handiwork?" he asked loudly. His voice gave a sickly echo. God, he hated this planet.

"Yes, sir," she said from behind the rocks. Slowly she stepped forward with her sawed-off aimed at the fallen bandit. The browncoat holstered the repeater and stood slowly with his hands up, glancing at Zoe.

"I saw her at the memorial," he said in a quiet British tone that was only slightly less annoying than Badger's. "We're all on the same side."

Mal finally holstered his gun and regarded the browncoat curiously, beckoning him toward the ship. Zoe stooped down to check the fallen bandit's pulse. Mal looked down at Simon, offering him a hand up. "You all right?"

Simon scrambled up of his own accord and lifted Kaylee easily. "Are you all right?" he asked her, brushing her hair back and completely ignoring Mal. The Captain rolled his eyes and turned to regard the apparently very jovial blonde gent, who still had his hands up.

"You served here?"

The gent nodded. "Eight years ago last week. One of the few that got through the chemicals without any lasting damage. …Well, actually that statement tends to be relative to the person I'm talking to."

"You seem sane enough to me, and that's a notion I don't come by easily. What's your name, Sergeant?"

"Cooke. William Cooke."

"Well, William, you mind tellin' me why those bandits were so intent on having you dead?"

"Ain't nothin' much. Just some of the few Alliance folk that got left behind back in the day and went bonkers with all the rest. They happened to spot me and the colour of my coat with this fine piece of arsenal I bought from one of your boys only moments ago and decided I was rekindling the war."

Mal searched his face and nodded. "I'm inclined to believe you, William. You lookin' for passage off this god-forsaken rock?"

His face turned serious. "You offerin'?"

"We ain't goin' far, mind, but it's a far cry from the sorry state of this here planet."

"The only thing I got of value is this piece of work here," he said, indicating the gun he'd just bought from Jayne. "I'd be more than happy to give it back to you for a chance out of here. Ain't had an opportunity like this in eight years."

Mal nodded. "My only condition is that you get yourself checked out by our medic, make sure you ain't a psychopath come to kill us in our sleep. That's happened far too often lately."

William didn't seem at all surprised by that statement and nodded understandingly. Mal threw his head back in indication to William that he should go on in. He watched the former soldier as he passed "You both all right?" he again asked Simon and Kaylee, fussing over each other just inside the cargo bay. This time he got a pair of nods in response. "Fine. Kaylee, prep us. We're takin' off sooner than expected." Mal glanced into the distance to make sure William was about of earshot. "Simon, you treat our new recruit, and don't ask questions. There's somethin' about him I neither like nor trust, and I'm asking you to leave it to me. Understood?" Simon nodded slowly, kissed Kaylee briefly, and walked shakily across the cargo hold.

Kaylee stood beside Mal and looked up at him uncertainly. "Zoe musta found somethin' out there, Capt'n. She radioed back to Simon and asked him to come along. I don't think it was a good thing, neither. Maybe you should talk to Zoe?"

"Zoe and I known each other long enough to know we got an agreement. She got somethin' she wants to say to me, she'll say it. Either I'll know or I won't. I recommend you don't push that doctor o' yours on the matter, either, until he's willin' to tell you what it was." Mal sighed. "There's a lot on this rock that ain't good, Kaylee. You avoid it as much as you can, hear?"

"Yes, Cap'n."

"Good girl. Now you go start up the engines."

"But…"

"If Zoe had any more business on this rock, she wouldn't have gone inside. Go on."

Kaylee nodded and walked solemnly inside. Mal radioed up to River and told her they were leaving. River didn't ask any questions, but he could tell by the tone of her voice she'd heard everything. She was getting easier to read, along with the getting less insane as time went on. It was good. Having a sane pilot was always a wiser choice than not.

Mal pounded a button and watched the barren landscape disappeared as the doors closed and they lifted off into atmo.

_oh god they've really sunk that low  
they've always been this low why do you think we're fighting this war_


	3. Chapter 3

Mal kicked open the hatch down to his quarters and clamored down the ladder. He took the files out of his coat pocket and threw them on the bed, taking his coat off slowly and hanging it on a hook near the entrance. Without sitting down, he picked up the manila folder and flipped calmly to the first page.

_Shepherd Derrial H. Book  
Born: Vilhelk Retuk Maratal  
Nameless for six years_

It was all Mal had to read before uttering a very brief but apparently very passionate spiel of Chinese profanities. He leafed through the rest of the file until he got to the page with Maratal's history on it.

_Born sixty years PTF (post-terraforming revolution), Vilhelk Maratal was born on what was left of Earth That Was. He was among the fourth generation of those left behind on Judgement Day. When he was thirteen, the food shipments to Earth That Was were terminated by the Alliance, for Earth That Was had become "no longer viable". Both Maratal's parents were killed in following air strikes intending to annihilate any sign of life on the Mother Planet; Maratal meanwhile delved into the abandoned underground city formerly known as Los Angeles and took the final escape pod from the emergency evacuation centre therein. Though the pod was clearly an early model and was significantly defective, Maratal managed to make it to the original Moon before the pod crashed. A mature teenager, Maratal approached the nearest army corps and was immediately accepted into the then small Alliance training programme. He entered the standard army force training for four years and showed unusual ability; trained in a more specialized area until age 20. Entered the Alliance army strength: ages 20-24._

_ Missing transcript: ages 24-30. No history. Resume: ninety years PTF _

Mal flipped forward a few pages through the rest of Book's history, including the location and date of his death, to the section he was truly interested in.

_Those who knew Derrial Book as Maratal were "trained" to forget his original name and history. There is no evidence to suggest they are one and the same other than the identifying feature of Book's ability to infiltrate the Alliance at any time for any reason, from medical attention to arsenal to access to confidential files. Some began to speculate that Book's suspicious behavior was because he was a former Operative of the government, but again, the lack in documentation or evidence of this makes no intimation of that fact. Only the missing six years of his life indicate any such connection._

Mal closed the file and threw it angrily onto his bed, barely letting go of it before dashing up the ladder. He leapt up the small flight of stairs once in the hallway but stopped short of opening the door to the bridge, stopping to catch his breath and calm down. He knew River would read his mind anyway, but at least this way he'd put up somewhat of a fight. He took a breath and slid open the metal door.

"…you're doing all right?" Inara's voice danced across Mal's spine. He leaned against the doorway just as her eyes met his. He was careful to keep a steely expression on his face. They were, after all, having a fight. Inara looked slowly away and regarded River again.

"Fine." Suddenly River's head snapped to the side, as though she'd heard something behind her. "Nervous."

"Why nervous?"

"He's nervous."

Inara's eyes shot suspiciously back to Mal's. "The Captain?"

River turned her head back toward the dials and didn't make eye contact. "The passenger. He's not who he claims."

Inara nodded and put a hand gently on River's shoulder. "All right. I'll leave you to it."

"He's got thoughts that don't belong. Don't go near him; he'll take your secret."

Inara stopped in her tracks and frowned back. "What secret?"

River turned her head so her face was gently outlined by the light from the dials. "Keep it guarded."

Mal raised his eyebrows and stepped aside to let Inara by. She regarded him momentarily before rolling her eyes in a rather hauty fashion. "Captain," she sad coolly as she passed.

"Ambassador," he replied just as coolly as he stepped onto the bridge after her. He slid the door closed behind him and approached River's chair. "Trelann ain't this way."

"A battle broke out on Rachta. Kaylee's been listening to the feed. There's Alliance everywhere."

"Right then. How long this detour gonna cost us?"

"Thirty-seven minutes."

"You ain't a bad pilot, you know that?"

"You say that as though you're surprised," River said with a light tone. Mal smiled and sort of loitered, waiting for her to bring it up so he couldn't be blamed for instigating the conversation. He waited for a long time before he saw in her face that she knew he was waiting and that she wasn't going to start it.

"So… you've had some kind of excelled schooling, right?"

"Not particularly."

"But you know stuff some other people probably wouldn't."

"Not by schooling."

"Right. By that mind-reading thing or whatever it is you do. So… if I… went and said a name… like, oh, say, Vilhelk Maratal… you'd be able to tell me if you knew anything about him, from any Alliance officers you might have encountered…?"

"In theory."

"Right. Good." A pause fell over the room and River curled up in her chair, strapped of things to do for the moment. "So… what do you know about Vilhelk Maratal?"

River blinked and frowned, watching the floor as she spoke. "Born on Earth That Was in a region called Indoceana, formerly the United States of America, sixty-three years ago. Parents killed by Alliance Obliterators, but he joined their ranks anyway."

"Yeah, I know all that. I'm looking for the part that happened thirty-five years ago. From when he was twenty-four to thirty."

River glanced at Mal through narrowed eyes as though silently scolding him for being impatient, but began where he asked. "At the age of twenty-three, Maratal was into his third year of special training. He was sent on a mission with only one other person, from which neither returned. They were assumed dead." River watched Mal watching her intently, waiting for more. River blinked. "That's it."

"Yeah, but… no. What happened after that?"

"They were assumed dead."

"No, he… people don't just get sent to planets and then get assumed dead. Even the Alliance ain't that careless."

"You assume carelessness."

"Now what does that mean?"

"The planet they were sent to was a dead planet. They thought it was a dwarf; Maratal and his partner were sent for reconnaissance purposes."

"Yeah? So?"

"It was the only rock floating behind what would become Haven. There were miles of space in between; the feat seemed too great. No one was surprised when they went missing."

Mal frowned. "Miranda."

River nodded. "You see beauty in people, captain. Little about Miranda's history was accidental." Her eyes met the captain's. "Not even our interference."

Mal's face slackened in confusion. "I realize I'm lookin' at things beside the point here, but the pax event didn't happen for twenty-two years after that. Miranda didn't even appear on the map for a dozen years, you're telling me it has more history than the Alliance's involvement?"

River shook her head. "Maratal was the Alliance. Only within two years of the most recent war have their numbers become extensive. He and his partner were training to be…" She trailed off and her expression took on a glimmer of horror. She shut her eyes tight, and Mal decided it was time to change the subject.

"What was so special about him? Why Maratal?"

River opened her eyes but didn't look at Mal. "He was determined and sufficiently ignorant."

Mal smirked despite himself. "Everything a good Alliance boy needs." He looked back at her, but she had turned back to the dials. Her back was completely to Mal; he understood that the conversation was over. He stood up straight and began to walk toward the door. "Set a course, supper'll be set in fifteen."

She turned her head slightly toward him as he was leaving. "Will he be there?"

"Who, the passenger? I imagine so, we didn't offer him passage to have him starve to death."

River turned back and looked out the windshield. "I think I'll eat in my quarters." She stood and brushed past Mal quickly; he watched her skirt disappear around the corner and wondered very much what went on in that girl's mind.  



	4. Chapter 4

Simon was taking notes when Mal entered. He watched as the doctor bit his lip and frowned pensively, bending down to sift through a cupboard for something. Catching a reflection in one of the bedpans, he turned to regard the captain leaning in the doorway. "Captain. Good." He stood and turned to his records again, flipping the pages. "I need to discuss William Cooke with you."

The captain didn't seem surprised. "What did you find?"

Simon sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he turned back toward the captain. "Nothing. He appears to be in top physical condition; he's managed to maintain a decent nutrition, he's in good shape… he's perfectly responsive mentally…"

"Can we get to the 'but' part of this speech please Doctor?"

"But, as I'm sure you noticed, none of those things are characteristic of someone having lived on a planet like Yanash for eight years. Everyone on that planet is out of their minds. In some of the valleys, a thin layer of radioactive gas remains. That, if not for the near-constant attacks he should have received similar to the one we witnessed, should have had some kind of effect on him; hair loss, nausea, sterility, even cancerous cells…"

"None of those are present?"

The doctor shook his head. "Not a one."

Mal crossed his arms. "Is there any possible explanation for a lack of these symptoms? Could he be an Immune?"

"He'd have been marked if he was an Immune. He'd also have to have been heavily involved with the Alliance at some point…"

"Which ain't too likely for a browncoat."

"Right. Otherwise, there's no reason he shouldn't at least have an eight-year headache to complain about."

"He's lying about somethin'."

"So it would seem."

Mal looked around the room as though searching for something. "Now, if only there was a way to get inside his head and find out what he's lying about…"

Simon understood immediately. "Absolutely not."

"It ain't like she's exactly helpless anymore."

"She's your pilot, not your psychic."

"I already know she don't like the man much. All we got to do is ask her why."

"If she said she didn't like him but didn't say why, it would seem to the common observer that she doesn't _want_ to tell you."

The captain frowned and leaned back. "Why are you so interested in standing up for a man who could, for all we know, be plotting to kill us all?"

"If that was the case, she'd tell us what she knows."

"It didn't occur to her to do that when Saffron got on the ship, nor with any other of the untrustworthy folk we've had on our ship."

"This is the first passenger we've taken since Miranda. You know as well as I do that she's changed." Simon sighed. "You're not to use my sister to get information. I want that to be very clear. Being a psychic is as much her choice as losing the war was yours. She chooses to be a pilot. That will be her only role on this ship, unless she expressly chooses differently without influence."

Mal stood with crossed arms and frowned at Simon. "I may not always agree with you, Doctor, but you're a fair man." He turned and strode from the medical wing. "Bring up the war again and I'll have Jayne make sure you're acquainted with Vera."

Simon sighed after the captain, knowing this threat was as empty as every other one he'd made recently. The man was suffering of extraordinary bitterness, in the doctor's opinion, aggravated quite emphatically by what had happened on Miranda. Mal softened in the face of a lady; Simon knew he and River had become almost like friends since she'd become the pilot, and Kaylee always put a smile on his face. The only woman on the ship the captain ever expressed any bitterness toward was Inara, which was something no one seemed to understand except the two of them.

River crept into the room and seated herself on the counter as Simon went back to rummaging through the cabinets on his unknown mission. He finally emerged with a large bottle of pills. He nodded and read the label over, turning around to find a prescription bottle to pour some into. He started and dropped the smaller vial as he caught sight of River, who giggled at her brother's clumsiness. Simon steadied his breath and smiled mock-vindictively at his sister. "One of these days, Meimei, you're going to give me a heart attack."

"Would you condemn yourself to bedrest?"

"And force myself to eat cardiac protein bars instead of the regular stuff. You'd have to sneak me in some steak, or some chocolate or something." River smiled at her brother's retort, and he saw that she looked very tired. "What's up?"

"Someone's here that doesn't belong."

Simon frowned and looked around the lab. "It's just you and I, River. No one else here."

River stared at the floor. "That's not what I mean," she whispered.

Simon shifted the bottles around behind his back so the labels were concealed from his sister. He stepped forward and lifted her chin with one finger so that her eyes made contact with his. "If this is about the passenger, the captain will take care of it. You don't have to tell him anything you don't want to."

River sighed in a way that suggested that her anxiety was rearing its ugly head. "He's different," she whispered. "He's not the same, he doesn't belong here, he's…" River's eyes snapped momentarily over to her left; when they returned to Simon's, they had a glazed semblance of calm restored within them. Simon frowned and leaned back ever so slightly in skepticism. "Don't be mad at the captain, Simon. He just wants what's best for his crew."

Simon stepped back even further to let his sister jump down off the counter. "Okay…" he followed her with his eyes as she made to leave the room until he saw Zoe standing almost out of sight outside the lab. "I guess you're right," he said slowly, catching on. "I guess I'm just worrying too much." Simon understood that River had worked hard to develop the crew's trust in her as a sane person over the past three months, and that any lapse in that would jeopardize her position on the boat.

River stopped in the doorway and turned momentarily back toward her brother. "You always worry too much," she said with affection over her shoulder, and made to walk up the few stairs into the cargo hold.

"Everything all right?" Zoe asked as the girl passed by.

River smiled and touched Zoe's arm lightly. "Everything's fine," she said dreamily, though with more sincerity than was perhaps necessary. She floated into the cargo hold and tried not to shake as she stepped. Zoe's gaze followed her suspiciously before she strode into the medical lab.

Simon smiled grimly as she entered. "Have you thought—?"

Zoe's expression remained neutral. "Do you have the pills?"

Simon smiled and nodded, going back to where the pair of bottles sat on the counter. He kept his head down as he transferred pills from the bigger bottle into the smaller one. "I don't think I need to remind you of the dangers involved with your job. You might want to consider taking leave."

"My job ain't got nothing to do with this."

"Getting hurt could seriously increase the risk—"

"My job's been plenty dangerous for a long time and it hasn't made the slightest difference."

"Even so, there's no reason—"

"I don't want to be treated like a leper, Doctor. That just ain't the case, and it ain't right to be treated as such for no good reason."

Simon turned with the prescription bottle in his hand and regarded Zoe with concern. "This sounds a lot like denial, Zoe. If you want more time to consider everything…"

Zoe sighed resignedly. "No. I understand the risks. I know what I've got to do. I'm just asking you to let me do it in my own time."

Simon nodded and held out the bottle. "Take one daily just after your first meal of the day. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask."

Zoe nodded and turned to leave. "I'd take it as a kindness if you kept this quiet."

"I'm your doctor. I can't say anything you don't want me to."

"You're a wanted criminal."

"Maybe, but my morals are very important to me."

Zoe nodded. "I don't just mean out loud, Doctor."

Simon's face dawned comprehension as he nodded again. Zoe concealed the pills and strode from the room, face determined and mind reeling.  



	5. Chapter 5

Jayne was not amused. Every time he drifted off again, turbulence jostled him back to full wakefulness.

"Ruttin' pilot," he muttered to himself as he pulled clothing on and stepped into the hall. "Want somethin' done right, gotta do it yourself. Ain't my job, but that don't matter, does it?" He vaulted himself up the stairs and turned toward the corridor outside the bridge. He stopped short at the sight of the passenger, who was standing in the middle of the hall staring up the stairs.

"What in the hell are you doing, being in off-limits areas? It's the middle of the night. Get back to your bunk, or I'll put you back there myself," Jayne threatened, though somewhat sleepily. Cooke didn't move, or even acknowledge that Jayne was there. "Hey, you listenin' to me? Git," Jayne instructed, stepping forward a bit more and snapping his fingers in front of Cooke's face. Still no movement. Jayne frowned and followed Cooke's line of sight; finally he saw River on the opposite end of the hallway. She was staring back at Cooke with equal fascination. Jayne raised an eyebrow and glanced from one person to the other. Neither moved; River seemed to glare while Cooke simply stared patiently.

Jayne grumbled and started up the stairs to the engine room. River shot out an arm and gently pushed him back down. "What are you doing?" she asked patiently. She didn't break eye contact with Cooke.

Jayne narrowed his eyes and watched River carefully as he answered. "Goin' up to stabilize the damn buffer panel. Ship's been rockin' about every which way, can't even get me a decent bit of shut-eye."

"I'll deal with it," she said with the air of someone commenting on how fluffy the clouds looked today. "You can go back to your bunk now."

Jayne snorted and stepped directly in front of the much shorter girl. She politely leaned to the right. Jayne leaned to block her line of sight again. She politely leaned the other way.

Jayne finally got frustrated and held on to River's face. "What is goin' on, girl?"

Finally, River looked Jayne in the eye. "It's hard to explain," she said with the same light demeanor. She then turned around and went back into the bridge.

Jayne turned to see that the passenger had gone. He stared after River with a mystified expression on his face.

"I'm telling you Mal, somethin' ain't right," Jayne found himself saying to the captain the next morning as they walked through the ship together. "She was just starin' at that feller like he was a particularly interestin' wave on the Cortex. Neither of them was sayin' anything, they just... stared."

"It sounds to me like you're hitting the bottom of the barrel in search of reasons to get the Tams off this boat," Mal commented.

"It ain't the Tams I want off this boat." Mal raised his eyebrows disbelievingly at Jayne. "Well, not right this second, anyhow. She was seein' somethin' in the passenger's head that he didn't want her to see."

"Since when do you take stock in the behavioural patterns of a psychic who still ain't entirely there?"

"Aw, c'mon Mal, you said yourself that she sees into the truth of things."

"And you said your own self that she still ain't at full-scale stability. The fact still remains that the Alliance played Operation on her brain. She don't respond to things the way you and I do. She's able to pick the bad out of some minds while totally ignoring the pure. If this man is who he claims to be, then he's got a fair few foul things in his mind in the first place. I trust the girl enough to know that she'll say somethin' if she thinks we're in danger. Besides, I promised the good doctor I wouldn't push her to say what she knows."

"Are you the gorram captain of this boat or not?" Mal glared at Jayne, who made no move to switch gears in his speech. "She's your ruttin' pilot. We got a psychic on this boat who ain't got a likin' towards someone, we got a right to know why. Forget the doctor's orders."

Mal sighed. "She don't wanna say, ain't our right to go diggin' into her personal business."

"She digs into ours on a daily basis without our permission," Jayne grumbled. "And between what the doc's been sayin' about the passenger and his freaky-ass attitude last night, I'd say there's ample reason to trust that he _ain't_ who he says he is."

"This ain't a discussion, Jayne. We land on Trelann tomorrow. We'll need weapons in case the drop turns ugly, as they so often do," Mal added in an attempt to get Jayne off the subject. He leapt up the stairs in the cargo hold and left Jayne standing below, who was no doubt formulating a plan to talk to River. Mal turned toward the engine room and stopped short as he heard Kaylee talking to the passenger.

"It's the best life a girl could ask for," Kaylee chirped. "I get to work on engines all day, I got a doctor for a boyfriend... besides, bein' out in the black is peaceful."

"Don't sound like it tends to be terribly peaceful on this boat," Cooke countered amicably.

"It ain't boring, that's for sure. I love it, though... wasn't ever no action on my home planet. I used to stare at the stars for hours, daydreamin' about some handsome rebel crash landin' beside my daddy's farm and needin' me to fix the engine for him. Then he'd sweep me away and we'd live happily in space together for as long as he'd have me."

"A rebel? The doc don't look your type," Cooke commented.

"Kaylee, you got that buffer panel span set?" Mal asked loudly as he entered the room.

"Just about, capt'n," Kaylee said. She was beneath the engine, tending to something underneath the floor panelling.

"How much longer?"

"'Bout two minutes. Won't be long."

Mal smiled and took the passenger by the arm, leading him out the door. "Watch your head when you back out of there," Mal advised Kaylee.

"Always do," she said cheerily, and kept talking to the no-longer-present Cooke.

"Why the hell you tryin' to get intel on my crew?" Mal asked Cooke after they were sufficiently out of earshot.

"I'm not--"

"Settin' Kaylee up so she'll talk easy, askin' about the good doctor, cornering his sister late last night... I let you on this boat in good faith. Gave you passage for almost nothin' just because you were a browncoat. Now I've got a pilot who refuses to be in the same room as you and a doctor who tells me there ain't no way you were on Yanash for eight years. You better be quick to explain yourself, boy, or the rest of your passage won't be a fraction as pleasant as this leg has been."

"Listen, I don't mean no harm..."

"You lied to me and my crew, puttin' us in a situation we ain't even fully aware of. You already done some harm."

Cooke swallowed nervously but never broke eye contact with Mal. "Look, I wasn't on that rock for the whole eight years, but I really did serve there during the war."

"As a browncoat?"

Cooke's expression turned to indignant shock. "Yeah, as a browncoat. If I was Alliance, I'd have posed as just a civilian. The Alliance wouldn't have defaced itself by posing as a browncoat. We're the uncivilized, remember? Closest things to reavers as they've seen."

Mal's expression softened. "Why are you here?"

"Can't say yet."

"Not sayin' ain't an option."

"Can't say _yet_," Cooke repeated, looking determined.

"What's stoppin' you from sayin'?"

"Don't know if I can trust everyone on this boat."

"_You're_ worried about trustin' people on this boat?"

"I came to Serenity for a reason."

"What reason would that be?"

"Its captain and second-in-command are the only browncoats that survived the Battle of Serenity Valley."

Mal was growing very tired of this conversation. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Cooke was searching Mal's eyes very carefully. "I wish I could say," he said slowly.

Mal stared at Cooke for a second before dragging him by the arm back toward the cargo hold. "Jayne," Mal shouted at top volume.

Jayne looked up from the weights and half-grinned, half-snarled at the captain. "Finally got around to getting half a brain inside that head, I see."

"Put him in a room somewhere and make sure he doesn't leave. No pain, no blood. Just a nice captive cell until we get to Trelann. Understand?"

"Yes I do," Jayne said, escorting the passenger down the hall somewhat roughly.

"Was that necessary?" came Zoe's voice from behind Mal.

"He's got some hidden itinerary he ain't willin' to share, but everything he says sounds like something that would come out of my mouth."

"Probably why you don't get along," Zoe speculated, leaning against the railing beside Mal.

"If it was just me, I'd sit back and wait until he was willin' to say. But because my crew's at stake, I can't let him be." Mal sighed. "I hate it when Jayne has a point."

"You're going to talk to River?"

"Don't see no other option."

"You're not going to let him off at Trelann, are you?"

Mal sighed again. "If I don't I'll be playing right into his hands and keeping my crew at risk. If I do..."

"Leave no man behind?"

Mal shrugged. "Maybe some things are best left alone."

"Some things can't ever be left alone." Zoe and Mal stood in silence for a minute. "Can you take Jayne for the drop tomorrow?" Zoe asked eventually.

Mal looked over suspiciously at his second-in-command. "Everything all right?"

Zoe nodded, but didn't look directly at Mal. "Just feeling a bit under the weather. I don't want to be a liability if things go south."

Mal continued to stare at Zoe with concern. "You haven't ever missed a drop. Not even when Wash..."

Zoe looked at Mal with an expression he hadn't seen since the war. "I just need a day."

He nodded slowly. "Yeah. Sure."

Zoe nodded back and walked down the stairs. Mal stared after her. She hadn't been the same since Wash had died; it was like her sense of humour had died with him. Mal realized as he watched her disappear in the direction of the infirmary that, in a way, that's exactly what had happened.  



End file.
